Ghost In My Toothbrush
by IntraSule
Summary: There's a ghost in Emil's toothbrush!


Hands trembled, voice soft as the wind blowing through the winter cold outside as he spoke into the phone.

"Lukas? Lukas, it's me, Emil. Pick up, already, I…" He paused, passing a tongue over his slightly chapped lip. "...You told me to tell you when I make it in the music program. And I did, so..."

With great effort, he tried to keep his eyes away from the television's screen, instead focusing on the downy snow outside the window as it coated the front lawn like powdered sugar. It should have been soothing, but the longer he stared at the snow, the harder it actually became to glean any comfort from it, the harder it became to ignore Tino's anguished cries; Peter, Siffreya, and Erland's barrage of confused questions (because they were too young and innocent to truly understand why Tino's weeping like a beaten dog, little Erland and Siffreya more so than big brother Peter), and Berwald, poor Berwald, trying to keep his head intact while attempting to calm Tino down and protect his children from the horror.

His voice, growing softer and softer, finally whispered, "Lukas, call back, please?" His muscles were weak, his will to keep his focus away from the television gone as he let his phone dangle by his side, his mind trying to block out the report in the news:

" _On highway 186, two men, identified as Mathias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik, fell victim to a car accident._ _T_ _he car seemed to have slipped_ _on the icy road_ _and fell into the lake. The rescue team were too late to arrive to the scene. Although Kohler, 25, survived drowning and is in hospitalization, the other man, Bondevik, 22, passed away on the ride to the hospital. We send condolences t_ _o the family._ "

Emil didn't want their damned condolences though. He wanted Lukas to pick up his damn phone and call back already! How hard is it to dial the phone?! Wasn't Lukas the one who always bugged Emil about calling back, and now that Emil did, not just once, but four times now, Lukas won't answer?! Just one call!

Just one call… please…

The television – the entire room – started to get blurry, as if the entire world suddenly went underwater right along with Lukas. Emil blinked and weakly wiped his sleeve over his eyes. "Please, big brother…"

Don't those damn kids know how loud their noise can carry in this house? All the way from his room, Emil could hear the demonic screeches of the Bratty Trio as they fell into their usual routine of fighting over some cheap toy or who gets to play with Hanatamago. And Tino, sweet, sweet Tino, so soft spoken –

"If you damned brats don't stop fighting, _I swear_ Berwald and I will take away your dessert for an entire week!"

Emil took a moment to tilt his head back and release a long sigh, rolling his eyes. Yes, Tino, yelling will definitely take away the yelling. Fight fire with fire, it's not like the flames won't grow any bigger.

And as expected, the children only hollered louder, as if challenging the man. And like a fool, Tino walked right into the challenge of getting the children to settle down.

Dear god, all this noise, like dogs ripping into each other's throat, was as bad as –

 _'You missed the beat on the second chorus.'_

Emil slapped his pencil down on the open notebook, leaning his head back once again as he rubbed his hands down his face. He released a grunt between his fingers before he let his hands fall into his lap, his head still angled over the back of his chair to watch the ceiling and the paper boats dangling on the strings.

 _'Are you going to fix it? You wouldn't want a bad performance, do you?'_

Emil shifted in his chair to get closer to the desk. He folded his arms over the surface and stared into the musical notes he made for his newest song, confusion bubbling up not only because the song seemed so old and familiar, despite being written recently by him, but because that was the only voice to speak so far. Where are the others…?

 _'You're pretty bad at this music stuff.'_

 _'You're going to have the worse performance ever, you know.'_

 _'Kiss your spot at the Young Orchestral League good-bye, Emil!_ '

There they go. As if he was in those dreaded family reunions he always saw in movies, Emil sat still and let the comments commence, the uncles who made weird jokes at Emil's expense, the aunts who passive-aggressively hinted at Emil's innate skill to fail at everything without his older, more talented brother to hold his hand –

"H-heey, Emil?"

Ironically, the only normal and familiar voice Emil heard was the one to make him jump in his seat. He swiveled his chair around, giving a thin-lipped scowl towards the figure standing by the door.

Well, not standing so much as leaning all his weight on the cane he relied on ever since the car crash, one eyelid permanently drooping from the scar running diagonal through his unkempt brow and just by the corner of his left eye.

A year later, and Emil still found his breath hitch in his throat whenever he saw it, which he knew stung Mathias despite how much he tried to hide it. Like he did right now as he slurred, "Tino shaid ta come on-n downstairs, dinner's r-rea...a...dy."

Emil gladly closed his book. The voices seemed to grow softer when he did so, as if he managed to trap them within the confines of the notebook's pages. Good, he hoped they'll suffocate in it, too. He stood up, stretched the kinks out of his joints, then followed Mathias down the stairs. It was a slow descent, considering Mathias had to hobble _and_ place his cane on the step so he can balance on it and not tumble down the stairs; the family wouldn't want another accident to damage his brain any more than it already was.

It seemed like it would take their entire lives by the time the two young men reached the bottom, and ever rude and impatient, Emil skipped around Mathias and made his way to the table, leaving behind a slurred yet playful "Hey!" in his trail. Emil took a seat right across the Bratty Trio, still in their screeching pride, as Tino and Berwald bustled about to quiet the children and set dinner down on the table. Mathias went into the kitchen to try and help, where he picked up a pan of baked fish, almost dropped it twice, and succeeded in actually getting it to the dining table with his strange limping walk.

All of this Emil watched with the typical indifference he always practiced in this household; just a few more minutes, and soon, it wouldn't matter if he got up to help once the children shut the hell up. And, as predicted, Peter stopped arguing with Erland, Siffreya stopped trying to take Peter's side, and Erland stopped trying to yell over them because he thought being louder would make him right.

The table grew relatively quiet. The fish, sides, and the salad that no one was going to eat were placed on the table. Berwald helped Mathias in his seat, Tino made the children tuck napkins into their shirt or place it on their laps, depending on where they spilled their food on themselves the most, and Emil fiddled with his fork.

 _'You know, you could be helpful for Tino and start serving the food.'_

A little huff of breath shot out of Emil's nostrils.

 _'Yeah! Stop being so damned lazy!'_

The fork fell from tensed fingers and clattered onto the table as Emil rose from his seat. He snatched up the bowl of lettuce and little else and passed out servings with the tongs, face fixed with a tight scowl. Unlike the first few times the family witnessed Emil's sudden, unexplained acts, they didn't ask him what his troubles were or what triggered him out of the blue, choosing instead to just watch and remain silent, like they did when they started getting used to it. Soon after, Tino helped serve the rest of the dinner.

When the food was on the plates, Tino sat down and muttered, "Thank you, Emil."

Emil kept his eyes on the small spot where the lettuce was touching his fish. He'll have to slice that piece off and feed it to Hana. "No problem."

They all picked up their silverware and started eating. Two minutes in, conversations started kicking up again. To his left, Emil could hear Mathias try to put his speech therapy into good use and share his day; in his head, Emil tried not to be mean about how that speech therapy was doing nothing for Mathias's thick and broken talking. To his right, Tino was nodding along as if his head was unhinged from his neck, the rosy-cheek smile coaxing more and more out of Mathias, no matter how slow it was coming out. Berwald, despite his stone eyes staring at his food, was listening to his children. He was always listening to his children, even when he appeared to not be doing so, be it when they prattled on about school or crushes or what fights they got in with their classmates.

Emil picked a piece of fish and popped it into his mouth. Just like every evening, he was starting to blend in with the setting, until there was nothing but air sitting in his spot to these people. But that's perfectly fine. It's not like he doesn't have a loud chat going on, himself:

 _'So, you're just going to eat that layer of baked fat? It's nothing but butter and tuna, you know.'_

 _'You always wonder why you're so sick and thin, then don't bother to even eat your vegetables.'_

As Emil chewed his fish, he pushed the chopped lettuce around his plate.

 _'It's always just fish, licorice, and cola with you, you scrawny, sickly dolt!'_

 _'You should eat your salad, Emil.'_

That voice, always so tender, and therefore the most annoying, froze Emil, stopping him just as he was about to sculpt a face out of the cherry tomatoes and strips of carrots. It didn't pass Tino's notice as he glanced at the teen from the corner of his eyes, but with Mathias going on and on about the new exercises he was going to do next week, Tino passed the opportunity to say anything to Emil and left him to watch the unfinished smile in his salad.

 _'...Please eat your salad? It's good for you; you need to get bigger…'_

Emil made a point to shove his salad around, spilling some red cabbage bits onto the table and into his mashed potatoes. Siffreya, watching him from across the table, started to push her salad around, too, but instead of pushing it away from the rest of her food, she ended up mixing everything together into a big, colorful mess. Emil didn't pay attention, though, his attention going into showing this pressing voice that, like he does with the others, he wasn't going to listen to them or their wonderful advice –

 _'You know, like your big brother.'_

Almost as if forced, Emil stabbed the fork into his salad and shoved the thick pluck of leaves into his mouth. With a slow chew, Emil could feel a thin line of tomato juice squirt between his teeth.

Always watching, Siffreya, Peter, and Erland mimicked the boy, smiling big grins as the tomatoes squashed in their teeth and spill down their chins. Berwald had to set his fork down and grab his napkin to wipe them clean, unsure whether to be frustrated that Emil sparked yet another sloppy trend at the table or happy that the kids are at least eating their greens. Emil swallowed and started to eat more and more of the salad.

It was just a voice – at least Emil wasn't out of it enough to know that – but he swore he could feel that voice, and only that voice, smile as it said, _'Thank you, Emil.'_

Emil just ate in silence.

 _'Don't forget to get more. You need a lot of it.'_

Emil closed his eyes for a moment, breathed a deep sigh, and reached for the tongs to dump more of the stuff onto his plate. God, it tasted like his homework, it's no wonder none of them eat this shit.

After putting away the dishes – and allowing that same annoyingly soft voice to persuade him to wash the dishes for the poor, tired out Tino and Berwald – Emil went into the living room at his snail's pace and plopped down on the available space on the couch, just where he could watch Tino look for the movie Mathias was trying so hard to state the title to. Friday night matinees were the proven effective time consumer that killed the kids' last bit of energy. Which was great and all, because the teen could live without hearing the tiny-bodied monsters hop on their beds and scream at the top of their lungs all night, but he never seemed to get why the adults made _him_ watch it, too.

Worse still, it was Mathias's turn to pick the movie of the week, and knowing him, he didn't lose his love of intense and bloody action films to the head trauma. Great, Emil would probably see a guy's cock get chopped off during a cop questioning or something within the first twenty minutes. Emil pulled out his phone and began scrolling through some apps and games to see which caught his interest that night. He pulled his knees up and settled in for some Candy Crush.

 _'Ugh, I bet it's another violent movie.'_

Emil made a small noise and shrugged. Of course it is.

 _'Emil, I want you to close your eyes when it gets too gory, okay?'_

Another shrug as Emil simply swiped his thumb this way and that over his screen to beat his own high score.

 _'Emil...'_

"Ugh." Emil rolled his eyes, but the airy voice took his grunt as an agreement and backed off. Still, just like a movie's purpose, Emil was drawn to the screen, taking in the punches being thrown and the bullets flying all over the place; a man's groin wasn't chopped off, but it was kicked plenty of times, enough for it to be predictable and somewhat comical.

Then came a car chase scene between the villains and the protagonist and his girlfriend. They were speeding towards the bridge…

Everyone was too tuned to the movie and whether the characters would make it out to notice Emil dropping his phone, his hands growing too weak and shaky just like his breaths, going in and out as if the room got too hot and too small. He watched as Mathias, ever the brave soul, tried to swerve the car out of the way as Lukas held on tightly to the belt in his passenger's seat.

 _'Emil! Emil, look away!'_

The blood rushing to Emil's ears drowned out the demand as Emil watched the villain's car ram into Lukas and Mathias's car, and the car spinning out of control, spinning and spinning and crashing through the bridge's fragile rail to plunge deep into the frozen lake. The car filled too quickly, and Emil, again too helpless and far away to dive into the waters and save them himself, watched Lukas stuck his head up to avoid the water as much as he could, gasping for the air he will never breathe again –

 _'Emil!'_

" _ **Lukas**_!"

"E-Eemil?!"

Emil took a sharp breath and blinked as the screen's bright light blinded him. When did he lunge to the television set, reaching his useless hands out as if he could do a damn thing for the fictional characters inside? When did these wild, thick tears fall down his face? And where was Lukas to run to his side and wipe them away?

Instead, it was Mathias who, with surprising speed for someone who needed a lot of help off of his rear end, hopped off the couch and bent as low as he could to Emil's face. He tilted Emil's chin up and looked into his eyes with that sad, scarred eye. It was the same look that he probably gave Lukas before the waters took him.

"I'm so sorry..."

Emil blinked once more as Mathias's dull voice barely managed to pull him back. He slowly scanned the frightened faces of his family, slowly raised himself to his feet under their stares, and ran out of the room, speeding up the stairs and yanking the nearest door open. Emil went inside, closed the door, backed into the old coats, and sunk to the ground, burrowing himself into the safety of the faux fur that still smelled like Lukas after all these months.

 _'...Wow, way to bolt it outta there, you fucking chicken.'_

Emil pressed his hands to his ears, fresh tears and snot hot against his skin.

 _'It was a movie. It's not real! What are you,_ twelve _?'_

Even with his ears covered, Emil could hear them downstairs: the Bratty Trio asking questions they'll never understand the answer to, someone cutting off the movie and ushering the children upstairs for bed, and another person right in front of the door, giving the wood a soft knock.

 _'Sniveling in a closet over a shitty action movie. That will definitely bring Lukas back.'_

Will it? _Will it?!_ Because if so, damn will Emil cry and scream and howl until his very lungs collapse, and cry some more until he was sure that Lukas will stay forever. Isn't he already at that point, anyway? Let the gods hear him weep in this sweltering, cramped closet, just please, let them be merciful and bring Lukas back!

Whether from heaving sobs or from a sudden chill, Emil's small body shook with violent tremors. He could taste the gross threat of bile coming up his throat, but he forced it down, the only thing he could control that night as he was sure that he felt arms wrap around him.

It was Mathias who finally managed to coax Emil out of the closet, which was fifteen minutes of asking Emil if he was okay and apologizing over and over, both of them knowing that the apologies will never do any good.

God, he looked like such a mess. Emil stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the red circles that were his tired eyes on his splotchy, sweaty face, lips even more chapped than usual from the tears and snot caking on them before Mathias cleaned it away.

But the grotesque mess he saw in the mirror didn't bother him much. In fact, it made him look a little like Lukas before his coffee!

…Why didn't the joke work to bring the smile to Emil's face?

Emil reached for his toothbrush and took the toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet. He prepared the paste, wet the brush, and scrubbed away the leftover taste of fish and salad that he ended up eating all of because no one still would eat that.

 _'It's going to be okay, Emil.'_

Emil stopped brushing, found the foam burned his gums when he wasn't brushing, and went back to his task.

 _'You know I'm going to be here whenever you need me, okay?'_

Emil brushed harder; he was sure he felt a little bit of tomato mush in the back teeth.

 _'I will never leave you alone.'_

Emil bent and spat into the sink. The foam should have been a light blue, but all he saw was pink, and some thick red where the blood wasn't as diluted. He swished some water in his mouth to rinse out any blood, spat, and straightened back up.

Lukas's beautiful violet eyes blinked back at him, right over Emil's shoulder.

"Agh!" Emil jumped and chucked his toothbrush, only for it to bounce and roll away on the floor, missing the intended target. Emil remained leaning back on the sink and waited for the thumps in his ribcage to stop. He stared into empty space. Just empty space. Just him.

Oddly, that did not make him feel any better. Lucky for Emil, though, he cried out every ounce of his tears, so he wouldn't be having another breakdown anytime soon. There was nothing but a hollowed out man who wants nothing but sleep. He started to leave, his bed calling to him from all the way down the hall.

 _'Um, you forgot to floss.'_

Emil's feet stop on the cold tiles.

 _'Emil. Floss.'_

Emil spun back around and went back to the sink, yanking out the damn container of dental floss. He did everything this annoy voice told him to – floss, use mouthwash, check for food, wash the face, use the bathroom but _not in front of him, goodness,_ _wait until he leaves the room_ – and as soon as he satisfied every perfectionist whim of this voice, Emil high-tailed it out of there. He didn't get far before something stopped him, something that had him choking and his heart racing again.

Whatever force existed in the house had Emil walk up to a bedroom, one that hadn't been in use for such a long time. He opened the door, poked his head inside, and wished he hadn't. Just as expected, Lukas's room was empty. Closet where Lukas would hide his candy for Emil to find, empty. Dresser where Lukas kept his best products to look great in the morning, empty. The bed where Lukas used to let Emil crawl into with him after the nightmares or during the scary storms.

Emil crept inside. As soon as his toe touched the carpet, the presence in his head strengthened, despite it being as dead silent as Emil. There was one voice, it was always only one voice. He continued on to the bed and crawled on top. He sat crossed-leg, folded his hands in his lap, and inhaled deeply. His eyelids fluttered shut, drawing a tear that trickled along his lash.

Of course, the bed was empty.

He raised his hand to his eye and wiped it. Pulling his hand back, Emil felt more tears brimming at his eyes, so he wiped again. And again. Again and again because it didn't stop, they won't stop coming no matter how much Emil wished that he was just fucking empty already. His hand fell back into his lap, where the tears dripped from the tip of his runny nose and splashed onto his palm. The wind howled and picked up outside the window behind him. It made for a good cover for when Emil let the second part of today's breakdown overcome him. This time, though, he made sure to be quiet about it. He seemed to be doing pretty well with it; the sobs are barely coming out as gentle breaths pass his lips, and as long as he held his shirt to his nose to keep the watery snot somewhere, he could muffle out the sniffing.

Barely there fingers, cool like winter snow, brushed against Emil's cheek, passing right through the tear they meant to catch. At least Emil would like to think someone was there to wipe his tears, as scary as it would be to anyone else in their right head and isn't desperate enough to want a ghost to be with them. It would help to explain why he was now hearing humming, a tune that was sweet, loving, and comforting despite the sorrowful undertone that would make anyone miss someone.

It reminded him of Lukas. Then again, what _didn't_ remind him of Lukas?

The more Emil listened to the song, the more Emil started to recognize the song, one of the few originals Lukas wrote and would sing to Emil and Emil only. The actual lyrics were bittersweet when Emil drew it from his mind and to his lips, not making a bit of sense – which made Emil laugh when he was younger, with its silliness – but being so clear when he sang it in a strained voice.

" _And there is a long hall down to your bedroom, where I know I can still find you waiting. I know your ghost's in my toothbrush –_ "

He paused to wipe the tears away once more and give a light chuckle. There were the weird lyrics, never failing to bring out the childish giggle.

"– _There's a ghost in my toothbrush, keeps running on and on and on and on and on. Think it's trying to tell me that I need to move on and on and on and on. And I know all the horror stories have been told. I know your room is just down the hall, so, I'll be alright if I'm scared of the demons that come in the dark._

" _You'll sing along to a sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad song, and you won't know it's about you..._ "

Emil found himself curled up on his side, his body barely disturbing the tightly tucked sheet as those same fingers ran through his hair, like tufts of air breezing through his locks.

" _Will you_?"

Siffreya is the OC of ask-fennoswede (who you guys should totally follow on tumblr) and the song used is by Hale Sheffield.

Edited because I didn't proofread as needed.


End file.
